


twin iron rails ;

by therentyoupay



Category: Frozen (2013), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Brotp, Crushes, F/M, Friendship, Jack & Anna BROTP, One Shot, Small Towns, Summer, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 14:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2029287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therentyoupay/pseuds/therentyoupay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does anyone ever listen to Jack? No.</p>
            </blockquote>





	twin iron rails ;

**Author's Note:**

> _7/27/14_. shhhhhhh. i know i'm supposed to be on a writing hiatus until september (shhhhhhhhh), but i was feeling super inspired after hanging out with some high school co-workers at a pool party and some recent grads in cape cod this afternoon for a friend's grad party and spending all day at the beach and in a small town and passing over fifty billion train tracks. plus, i just really wanted to write a jack  & anna bff fic, kay. ~~i'm just gonna leave this here.~~
> 
> this is a direct result of too much coffee and **[alison](http://ahlistenalison.tumblr.com)** , who enables me in so many ways through her beta-reading. ~~you enabler, you. <3 <3~~
> 
> (i'm going to slink back into the hiatus abyss now ~)

 

* * *

  **twin iron rails ;**

* * *

 The tracks are quiet tonight.  
  
Which makes them the perfect spot for Anna to fill him in, walking along the rusty trail of rock and dirt and wooden boards. (Rotted out and weathered down, but that's no surprise.) The long stretch of twin iron rails disappear after each bend of trees, but he and Anna follow them anyway. Even when they were little, before distance was measured in time and space and miles, he and Anna knew that there would always be something far more exciting at the other end.  
  
They just haven't gotten there yet.  
  
The gravel shifts beneath Anna's sneakers, crunching and rustling amongst broken twigs in the chorus of crickets and nearby cars beyond the thick line of trees. It smells like late July—just the tiniest promise of a fading summer in the heaviness, as if each breath weighed more in his lungs than the last—and there is a chill in the breeze that Jack does not mind. Anna has been quiet since the last crossing, which never bodes well, and he has been trying to pay attention.  
  
“So what did he say, then?” Jack asks, scuffing at the pebbles along the edge with the heel of an old pair of Converses. He wants to bring them with him—when he leaves—but his mom would have a fit. She's already told him so.  
  
He's not really thinking about nudging her shoulder until he does, and he grins when she stumbles over one of the boards and shoves him back. He freezes his smile, though, when her next shove becomes a hold, and her arm links with his. Anna's sigh is loud, even according to her usual standards.  
  
“He thinks we should just stay friends,” is what Anna mumbles, which is stupid, because it can't be right.  
  
“The _fuck_?”  
  
“Not helping,” Anna sighs again, though the edge of impatience drowns out the earlier ring of disappointment. Barely. “He says it's dumb for us to act on anything now, when I'm just gonna leave in a month.”  
  
Which is why this conversation should have happened _earlier_ , but does anyone ever listen to Jack? No.  
  
“So, what—you're just gonna pretend like nothing's different?” he scoffs, without even his usual touch of humor to soften the blow; a bite of sarcasm has always been a good defense, even if it's not for _his_ benefit. Tonight is no different, it seems. “Who's he tryin' to kid?” Jack demands, more scathingly than he would probably like, but he's sort of too pissed off to care. Seriously. What the fuck. “At this rate, he's either gonna end up being a total douche because he doesn't know how to _do_ awkward, or you're gonna end up avoiding each other 'til fucking October.”  
  
It's not a good sign when Anna doesn't immediately jump to say something back, and he's just on the brink of taking of his foot out of his mouth when she whispers something under her breath.  
  
“I think that's sort of the point,” she murmurs, just loud enough to hear over the songs of crickets. Her freckles are still visible, even in the faint glow of far-off streetlights, and so is her frown, when she stares at the ground ahead of them and mumbles, “Or the plan, anyway. I guess. Not to see each other.”  
  
Jack stops walking before he even realizes what he's doing. Anna takes a few more steps before she pauses too, though whether it's because she doesn't realize right away that he's no longer attached to her arm or because she doesn't want to acknowledge whatever it is she thinks he's going to say—he doesn't know. Does Jack know what he's going to say? Probably not. Anna might, but it'd be a hard call to make.  
  
“So that's it?” he demands, angrier than he expected to be. The night air feels a lot thicker suddenly, and he's finding it hard to breathe. The scowl doesn't help, but really, when does it ever? “You're just gonna let him off the hook?”  
  
Anna slides back a glare his way, and then resumes her walking. There's an extra kick to her step that wasn't there a few minutes ago, and Jack hurries to catch up. Her hands are stuffed in her pockets, but she's still pushing quite the pace. There are cars curling by, on the far side of the brush, but all he sees is an occasional glow. It's a lot harder to appreciate the quiet now.  
  
“He's got a point, you know,” Anna mutters, and he doesn't like the wisp of bitterness to it, not when it's summer and the smell of dying freedom lingers in the air. It's too much change—too soon.  
  
“Says who?” Jack wants to know. “What does he know about this stuff, anyway?”  
  
 _Crunch. Crunch, crunch._ “Maybe it is a dumb idea. People shouldn't go to college with relationships. It—it's gonna mess with the experience, you know?”  
  
“Did _Kristoff_ tell you that?”  
  
Anna shrugs, and the casual shake of it stresses the weight upon her shoulders. “More or less.”  
  
“Who said it has to be a relationship? You're not, like, asking the guy to commit to anything.”  
  
Anna bites her cheek, which hollows out the shadow of freckles in the bluish dark. It take Jack a moment to realize that they've left the road lamps behind, and that his eyes have already adjusted. It's just the moon, now.  
  
“Aren't I, though?” Anna asks, thoughtful. “I don't think I really thought this through, before I said anything. I mean—what did I expect? To just, what, hang out? With that sort of confession hanging over our heads? I don't know, Jack,” Anna shakes her head. “I think I was hoping for something more than that.”  
  
Jack's not really sure what to say. This—this thing. It'd seemed like a good idea at the time.  
  
“I don't really think we thought this through,” Anna softly adds. “I wanted to get it off my chest, yeah. But. I mean... Was it really worth it? And—I didn't really realize it, until we started walking tonight, but... I'm pretty sure he already knew.”  
  
This takes Jack by surprise. He blinks, deliberate in the darkness. “What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean... I think _I'm_ the one who was sort of in the dark,” Anna muses, and he doesn't like that distant quality in her voice, the way she's already separating herself from her feelings. It's not Anna. At least—not usually. “It's weird, but—I kind of... got the impression that he knew how I felt all along. He didn't seem... surprised, actually.” Then, more quietly, “It was like he'd sort of been expecting me to mention it.”  
  
“Then that's even more stupid,” Jack bites out, heat swelling in his chest. A tiny prickle of familiar fear begins to flicker at the back of his mind, a flash of blonde and blue— _she knows_ , it says; _she can see right through you_ —but this isn't _about_ him, it's about Anna, and about Kristoff's stupid, thick-ass head. “The only reason I haven't demolished him yet is because of his ignorance! _Supposedly.”_  
  
Everybody knew how Kristoff felt about Anna. _Everybody._ Even Kristoff, himself.  
  
Except—until recently—for Anna.  
  
And— _so help him, god_ —if it turned out that Kristoff actually _knew_ that Anna felt shit back and didn't say anything—for three _years_ —and then turned around and turned her down as soon as she worked up the courage to say something, then Jack was gonna—  
  
“Hey, Jack,” Anna hesitantly begins. “If you wanna... you know. Renege on your side of the bargain, you can.” Her eyes are weirdly sort of apologetic when she looks at him and promises, “I won't be mad.”  
  
As subtly as he can, Jack swallows. He tries to imagine it—the way he has for the last day or so, since they concocted this (stupid) plan. His imagination usually ends with the same result.  
  
The look on Elsa's face as he laughs off his own words—tucks his embarrassment behind a foolproof smile, and ignores the rock in his gut. Somehow, tonight, the idea of it hurts even worse than before.  
  
“Yeah,” Jack shrugs, as nonchalant has he can muster—which is, Jack proudly notes, pretty well. “Who knows... maybe your sister might appreciate a good laugh.”  
  
Anna's scolding punch to his arm hurts pretty badly, but it's her face that does the trick.  
  
“Okay, okay,” Jack mutters, and lets the lightness in his voice continue on, even as the rock begins to harden. “Fine. We'll see how it goes.”  
  
He's not concerned, he tells himself; just a tiny little slip of the tongue—that's all. Just a quick, _Hey, you may not realize this, but I've sort of been in love with you forever_ , no big. It's not like she hadn't known who he was his entire life (i.e. _best friend to the kid sister, who taught Anna how to punch when she should have been learning Advanced Placement national history)._ It'll sort of be like free-falling from a cliff, only to pull out the bungee cord attached to his waist at the last second like, _Just kidding! That could have been a close one._ Except it really is.  
  
It really, really is.  
  
And fine, okay. He'll do it. He'll do it and be smooth about it, and he'll do it seriously—but not _too_ seriously—and he won't make a total fool of himself, hopefully, but he'll tell her the truth, which is the important part—which he probably should have told her a long time ago, if he were to take his own advice—and he'll tell her, like, that he's not actually expecting an answer, or anything, because that would be sort of ridiculous, but just—you know—so she _knows.  
  
_ Just in case.  
  
 _Hey, Elsa. You may not know this, but I've sort of always wished that we'd gotten to know each other better._  
  
 _Hey, Elsa. You may not, uh, really know this, but—I've sort of always wondered. What it'd be like if you and I were the same age. You know?_  
  
 _Hey, Elsa. Fun fact, but just so you know—_  
  
 _My favorite days are the ones where I actually have the balls to talk to you._  
  
Stupid plan from a couple of dumb kids, yeah, but he and Anna had made a deal, and he should really work on seeing things through. And, who knows—maybe it'll give Anna something else to think about, other than stupid Kristoff. Maybe Elsa won't look at him with pity, all apologetic like he's imagined, and if it really ends with it all blowing up in his face, then so what?  
  
Elsa rarely notices him, anyway.


End file.
